worlding is a human right

Tag: art

When I came into myself, again Yet another awkward re-awakening of this body I saw an imprisoned cage of where a young woman was residing, It was right behind my Mother’sss eyesss A tiny fire lit between the iris of two gazing hazel stonesss One of yearning Death and one of burning Honor Where ssshe might consssume the esssence of the temerity of one’sss own contentment Ssshe dissspels and expelsss the very thought of joy’sss inner dwelling It is an echo to Her very calling That is utterly denied Ssshe awaitsss in the agony that is a finely feathered & … Continue reading THE SNAKE BRIDE

The Witness: Why do you cry? The Face: Because, I see. The Witness: What do you see? :: The Face stares back for a time where The Witness thought to itself ‘until Kingdom-Come, when will it speak?” The Face’s eyes weld up with the deepest sorrow yet the greatest joy with a mouth closed and an unbreakable silence. Then, The Face let out a heavy sigh. :: The Face: I am a Seer My eyes pour So, my third eye may shine It is the diamond of my mind It cries… Dripping down from the center-to-the-center Into a … Continue reading A Conversation Between Three Entities: The Face, The Witness & The Viewer

Listen in on a private reading by Noelia Young, a slam poet based in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Her poetry discusses important themes: racism, wisdom, growth, and survival. … Continue reading Four Poems by Noelia Young

In my dreams we were in Charleston imagining apparitions and clowns I wonder how we could devise plans to become ghosts together in a tourist town to scare off kids and lovers alike And seeing how they still wanted us around even The devil horned The pale-blue eyed The predatorial smiles The dirty skinned A Murder of Crow, A Flight of Snow Geese In Winter’s frigid manner Their feet lifting off from the ground into a frightening flight Wings whirring in the wind To a bleakness up above With a singled eye Blindfolded To be, but afar from … Continue reading LILITH: PERCHED IN SILENCE by Moriah M. Mylod

Three poems by contributor Shivangi Goel. Capitalism We made the world we live in, And we have to make it over. Baldwin says to me, over Tea on couch across generations Of whispers of learnings snuffled Across ink and what confluence Would have it that only this voice reaches, It doesn’t lie, doesn’t exaggerate Taking me up the throat, gargling its Way out This venom This venom We’re accomodating unknowingly I mean all of it is not venom, and All of me is not shaken To the shaky wiggly mud patches Of what I know and am sure to … Continue reading Capitalism, Oswald’s day out, Silence by Shivangi Goel

“My mother said a white silk dress is a symbol of Vietnamese women’s immense suffering as well as their generosity. Through traumatic hardship, through horrific destruction caused by countless wars, the Vietnamese white silk dress still maintains its beauty. The beauty of a Vietnamese woman cannot be characterized by white skin, rosy cheeks and red lips; but by the elegant laps of a white silk dress.” Embedded in the above closing statement from the film White Silk Dress (Áo lụa Hà Đông) is an illustration of how sacrifice, which Keenan said in the Question of Sacrifice, is understood in our … Continue reading The Archaic and “Masculine” Beauty: A Review of the Film ‘White Silk Dress’ (Áo lụa Hà Đông) by Tini Ngatini

Dear, In Safe and Sound, I write as the crow flies—ashore, on the hard. Something’s happened, my friend. I’m aground, at liberty, and I think you must know. You’re on a run, of course, and a leg from the vanishing angle. There’s nothing so much to say, after all. A sliding pond across the pond, to think of it! And so, I write to you, the manifest all theirs. I was leadsman and three sheets to the wind after a jump. The shifting tides felt like wild gleams, and yelling, “La mal du siècle est le fin de siècle!” … Continue reading Found: A Letter for the Art of Love and Colors by Paul Michael Whitfield

I’m literally sitting writing this reading list in a Hugo Boss jacket that’s a bit too large for my small feminine frame. I found it barely worn in freshly dry cleaned in a “giveaway” box in my neighborhood. Everyone in the neighborhood leaves books, clothes and appliances out to share and trade. Some neighbors are a bit more well off than others. It’s not uncommon to find a wealthy student’s small collection of hand-me-downs that are clean, expensive and barely a year old. I almost like men’s jackets more than I like books, but as the season begins to change, … Continue reading 2017 Fall Reading List by Jordannah Elizabeth